


Black Lace

by moodwriter



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-23
Updated: 2012-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-02 09:49:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodwriter/pseuds/moodwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam has lost his grip on life, and Tommy helps him find it again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Lace

He claims his new album is a journey to his dark side, but it's all lies. He knows the secrets, though. He knows all that is hidden behind the veil of his smile and his soft voice. He knows, but he could never reveal his darkness because nobody would have the strength to carry it. His darkness is vast and it's painful, but it is his. 

The album does talk about the kind of darkness that is familiar to people, though, so he lets that be his mask. He lets people believe that this is his true nature. Everything is easier that way. 

One person sometimes questions his heart, sometimes comes too close with his words because this person knows his own darkness, stares it in the eyes every day and accepts it, accepts the side effects, accepts the coldness that sometimes seeps inside him, accepts that he can't and never will be truly happy. 

"Do you ever fear that one day you'll snap?" Tommy asks, drinking his coffee like it's vodka, something that messes with his system and makes him tick a little less loudly. Coffee does the opposite, though. It makes Tommy jittery. Adam knows it. 

"I've snapped. I snap. I screw up all the time."

Tommy smiles knowingly. "Not like that. Snap without any restraints."

Adam looks at the people in the cafe. Most of them are ready to jump him, but something is holding them back. This is a part of his rebellion. He's not going to run from anyone anymore. He won't let people stop him from going to cafes. One day, it might cost him an arm or a leg. "I won't."

"How do you know?"

He thinks about all the cellphones people have. All they need is one picture, and rumors will start to spread again. They are not fucking. They are not seeing each other. They are friends. He can't believe that after all this time there are still people who think Tommy is his secret lover. "I just know."

Tommy frowns. "People do crazy things. What makes us so different from all those crazy people who were sane once?"

Adam laughs, and it sounds a little bitter. "The knowledge that we're a little insane?"

"So the first step to insanity is not realizing you're approaching it?" 

Adam nods. One girl is looking at them like she wants to come over, like she wants an autograph and a picture and a smile and maybe she wants to smell him too. He turns his gaze back to Tommy. "We know we're insane so we'll hold it at bay. I can handle my darkness. You can handle yours. It's that easy." 

"Is it?"

"Why are we talking about this now? We were supposed to talk about the next tour. You're still with me on this one?"

"I'm still with you. You know that." Tommy holds the cup against his lips, his eyes dark and heavy on Adam. 

"I want to snap, you know."

"I know."

"I want to fuck up everything. I want to give in and let go. I want to stop doing everything. Would you let me?"

Tommy's eyes are focused, careful. "No."

"There's no joy in it anymore." He knows he should shut up because anyone could be listening. He doesn't care. "I'm a corpse right now." He really needs a vacation. 

"You're not rotting yet."

Adam smiles. He's fond of this guy. Maybe because he's honest, but never tries to make him do anything he doesn't want to. "It's close, though."

"You're doing well. The world loves you, still maybe more than our homeland, but it's better than not being loved at all."

"Did I make wrong decisions?" He sighs. He's not sure what he means, maybe the album, maybe life itself, maybe the house he bought. Who knows. 

Tommy puts the cup down, so, so serious Adam fears the answer. "Yeah. You should've-could've-would've, but life is too short for regret."

"How come you tolerate my bullshit?" There are three girls talking to each other, approaching their table. He hopes they are here to ask for Tommy's autograph because that would save his day. 

Tommy grins, open and child-like, and Adam can do nothing but grin back. "Your bullshit has always been interesting to me. It's painful sometimes, too, but mostly, it's interesting. You can't hurt me more than I hurt myself."

That's shocking to hear. He knew that already, but hearing it like that still shocks him. Tommy hurts. That twists his gut. 

"Excuse me," one of the girls says. "Can we have your autographs? Or a picture with you? We're huge fans." She sounds apologetic, and he feels sorry for her. She doesn't want to bother them, yet that's exactly what she's doing. He smiles even though he feels the frustration too. 

Tommy nods and smiles, and they take pictures and act like perfect little stars. He's never understood the amount of humble gratitude Tommy has towards people like her. And it's still the same. Still. 

The girls are smiling and laughing when they leave, and they are the best marketing tool he has. The better he can handle the pressure the nicer things he hears about himself. He tries, but sometimes he just can't. 

He realizes it's one of the only times they've posed for the fans together. People think he does it on purpose. The truth is they are rarely close to cameras together. There's never a reason to be. 

"Do you still feel connected to it all?" Tommy asks softly, like he doesn't want to interrupt his thoughts. 

Does he? Not really, no. Not to anything much at all if he's honest. "I'm slowly drifting away from everything." 

"Do you still feel connected to me?" 

That's surprising too because Tommy never asks for anything. He's incapable of asking anything for himself. He just hopes, and does, and comes close, but he never expects. Even if he should. If he answers truthfully right this moment he'll hurt Tommy. If he lies Tommy will know. "Right now, I don't feel a thing." It's a part of this darkness that's spreading inside him, this nothingness, this thing that makes him feel like he's not even here anymore. 

Instead of hiding behind a smile or an idea Tommy pinches Adam's hand, hurts him, and it hurts bad, those long nails digging into his skin. "Feel this?"

He pulls his hand away, but something moves inside him, something heavy and sly. "Do you want to make me feel?"

Tommy is startled. Adam can see it, but it's feather-light, something that is gone in the next moment, and Tommy grins. "You're a bastard."

"My bullshit doesn't bother you."

"Maybe."

Maybe he's too bold because he grabs the fork from the table, and pushes it gently against the back of Tommy's hand. The spikes don't sink deep, but when he pulls the fork over Tommy's skin he presses it down a bit more, drawing a shaky breath from Tommy's lips. 

"You want to hit me," Tommy says, and it's not a question. 

The idea is interesting, but that's behind the veil, and he shakes his head. "I want you at my mercy," he says instead. 

Tommy licks his lips, tilting his head. "Release my hand."

He realizes he's still pushing the fork against Tommy's hand, and there are deep red marks there. He shouldn't have done that. Tommy's hands are far more important than he cares to admit. He couldn't do this without them anymore. 

They are crazy, the darkness playing with them, a harlot spreading her knees. 

"Stop now," Adam says to Tommy, to himself, setting the fork on the table carefully, but Tommy isn't listening. 

"I'm wondering what kind of bathrooms they have here," he says, casual and light, like Adam doesn't know exactly what he's suggesting. His heart is beating in his chest because this is one of those moments you either seize or let slip through your fingers. Even though he knows what Tommy is offering he doesn't know what's the depth of it. 

"Why would you do this?" he asks because he has to. 

"Why not?"

He looks at Tommy, wondering what's going on behind those beautiful brown eyes. He's never been able to figure that out. Every time he's thought now he knows what makes Tommy tick he's managed to surprise him completely. It's both annoying and exhilarating. "We're too open for this ugly side right now." 

Tommy nods. "Explosion is close. Do you want that?" 

He doesn't want anything. What he wants is a year to himself. Nobody knowing him, nobody needing anything from him, nobody loving him, nobody caring what he does with his life. He wants to be left alone. "What do you want?"

Tommy laughs. "I've never known that. All I want is guitar strings under my fingers. This world is not made for fools like me." 

"You don't want me."

"Who knows."

"Ever been hard for a guy?" That something sly slithers further up. It can be heard in his voice, too. 

"You."

"Amsterdam doesn't count. You were high." Adam smiles. This is one of those conversations he thought he'd never have. 

"As a kite." Tommy nods. "Life is strange."

"You were such a good Catholic boy once," Adam says, smiling. "Playing dress up with the priests."

Tommy bites his lip, then nods again. "Although, I made their lives miserable. You know my mouth." Adam looks at that mouth and nods. "It can run a mile a minute," Tommy continues.

"You mean well." Tommy has a painfully kind heart, but he's sometimes good at hiding it behind careless words. 

"I mean jack shit most of the time."

And all of a sudden Adam wants to hug him. The cold, meaningless, ever-expanding darkness is pulling back because someone he cares about doesn't know his value. It just cracks him open, pulls him out of the cocoon, exposes him to the world, and he feels so god damn weak. He shivers. "I'd do it... take advantage of you, take the offer. That's how far gone I am right now."

"You're not," Tommy says, matter-of-fact. "Just taking a vacation in the shadows."

He hides his face in his hands, still shaking. He wants to cry, for fuck's sake. "I'm so tired."

"Yeah."

"Take me home, please." He wants to say something else too, but there's nothing. His mind is so empty it's scary. 

It's funny how it used to be him who picked Tommy up every time they saw each other somewhere without anyone else. Now he's sitting behind Tommy, the soft hum of the motorcycle's engine making him feel oddly safe. He holds onto the bike, not Tommy, because his helmet would hit against Tommy's every time they stop, but his crotch is pressed against Tommy's non-existent ass, and it's warm. The wind around them is light, and he trusts Tommy, trusts his life in his hands. It's a good feeling.

He doesn't have to invite Tommy in when they reach his home. It's natural that Tommy follows him, takes his shoes off in the hall, hangs his jacket, and then goes to the kitchen to get something to drink. 

They've had listening parties. Sometimes he asks Tommy over, and they play music, old stuff, something both of them know by heart, something Adam sings and Tommy plays, and it feels real. They haven't done that for a long while. This is the first time in months they are hanging out, doing something not work-related. Adam doesn't know why. Maybe because he's been distancing himself from everybody. It hurts to notice that people aren't worth the trust he's given them. People betray him left and right, and maybe those betrayals are small and meaningless, but because they keep happening he's been running away. Running scared. Running wild. Running mad. 

He sits on the kitchen table, drinking Coke, and Tommy hops on the kitchen counter opposite him. "How old were you when you knew you'd want to make music?" Tommy asks. They've talked about this a million times. His answers are always a little different.

"Mom says I kept saying that when I was three. I don't know. Forever seems like the proper answer."

"Then why are you whiny about it now?" Tommy looks at him over his can of Coke, and there's not a hint of smile on his face. He's serious. 

"I can't whine ever?" He's annoyed. He wants to take it out on Tommy. 

"Will it make you feel better?" 

"Nothing will."

"I think I could."

"Not this again." He stares at Tommy, but he doesn't see through his defenses at the moment. Tommy wants to hide behind the mask of indifference, like he doesn't care that he's constantly bringing up something that's not gonna happen. 

"Tell me," Tommy says, setting down the can and jumping off the counter. "How often do people throw themselves at your feet?"

Far too often if they get the chance. None of them are his friends. "I will take advantage of you," he warns, but it has no effect on Tommy who's taking a few careful steps towards him. "I have no problem with that," he continues, but doesn't know if he's trying to convince Tommy or himself. The truth is he's terrified. Old wounds are opening fast, and he was hoping they'd be gone already. He fell for this guy a few years back. Fell hard, burned even harder. Tommy doesn't know. He never told him. Never said a word. 

"What if I tell you you can use me?" Tommy says like he's promising to make coffee for Adam.

"For what?"

Tommy laughs. "You can't be that innocent."

"No, I mean: what good would come out of that?" 

Tommy's hands slide over his thighs, and his breath becomes shallow. This is beyond cruel. Cracking, cracking, cracking. Every part of him. All that coldness is gone, and it's replaced by fear and anxiety. "You want to feel? Well, you're feeling."

"Fuck you," he whispers, closing his eyes.

"Do you want me to stop?" Tommy's hands are light, his long fingers burning Adam's skin through his jeans.

He nods. 

"Did you ever wish--"

Adam takes hold of Tommy's wrists, his eyes sharp and cold. "Stop."

"Did you ever want me to want you?"

Adam thinks he should let go, but he captures Tommy between his thighs instead. That startles Tommy, but doesn't stop the smirk from spreading on his face. "Stone cold sober," he says, wicked. 

Fuck him. Fuck all the pretty boys who've ever stumbled into his life. Fuck the whole fucking world. He's holding Tommy's wrists too hard, bruising him, but he has no other way of controlling himself. 

"Answer me," Tommy says. "Do you want me to want you?"

He's not getting anything but empty promises. Tommy is not trying to pull away, but he's not coming any closer either. Stalemate. Fuck his life too. "I want you to leave." He pronounces every word carefully. He's been hurt enough. He doesn't need this. 

Tommy closes his eyes, and it's clear he's panicking for the first time, his whole body rigid. "Sorry," he whispers.

He hasn't let go so Tommy can't move. Nothing changes. A part of him wants to scream because life is a cruel game, but a small part of him still believes, still hopes. "What if I kiss you now? What if I suck you off? What if I push you to your limit? You'll hate me."

Tommy swallows, still keeping his eyes closed, and he looks so beautiful in that moment. "Try," is all he says. 

Still no promises. His bones are showing; he's that torn open. "You're such a fucking tease."

"Maybe."

It's the slithering darkness that finally bends his will, crushes his mouth against Tommy's, nothing gentle behind the kiss, just a desperate need to make things happen. When he pulls back, to breathe, to look at Tommy's red lips, to see what he's done, Tommy licks his lips, licks the swollen part of his lower lip. "Feeling anything yet?"

He wants to grab something other than Tommy's wrists, but he doesn't dare. He doesn't know what he would do now that he's started this. He's feeling, though. "Anger," he says, his voice cold. 

"You don't want me to leave."

"No."

"Then do what you want."

He hesitates, desperate, angry, hurt, betrayed, and he wants to take it all out on Tommy. He could. Tommy would let him. That scares the shit out of him, and he kisses Tommy's cheek, gentle and careful and sweet. "You shouldn't," he says softly, breathing in Tommy's scent. 

Tommy tilts his head to the side, exposing his neck, tender, soft skin, a surrender. Adam bites it, bites hard, then sucks. "Help me," he whispers, and he only understands the words after he's said them. Then he's saying them over and over again.

He's still holding Tommy's wrists so all Tommy can do is kiss whatever skin he can reach, and it kills him, snaps his neck, pierces his heart, cuts off his head, until there's nothing left, and he's just a whining mess in Tommy's arms. 

After a while he realizes Tommy is stroking his hair, whispering nonsense in his ear, holding him, warm and present and alive. It's real, and it's now. And he feels every second of it. He tries laughing a little because it feels good to feel pain. 

"I'm sorry," Tommy says softly. "I didn't know what to do."

He doesn't want to know what those words mean, but he does. He knows they mean that Tommy will leave, go to his own home, be his friend, and those wounds are bare again, wide open for the world to see. But still, he feels better, stronger, more like he used to felt. "Thank you."

Tommy rests his forehead against Adam's shoulder, sighing, a quiet smile in his voice when he says, "I love you, you know."

"Yeah..."

"Don't pull away. Don't build a wall. Don't try to hide. You won't survive that way. Please."

He knows what Tommy means, but he's not sure if he can do it. Too much has happened. "I promise to try."

"Do, or do not. There is no try," Tommy says, all serious, and then they both burst into laughter. 

"Sorry I kissed you." It's hard to apologize for that. He wants to do it again. He wants to have the right; he wants to claim. Why he can't is so god damn unfair.

"Don't be." Tommy sounds odd, quiet, shy, and Adam has to see his face.

"Why?"

"I can't... I want... Just don't, okay?"

Now he's confused because Tommy is looking at the buttons of his shirt, and he's shy like the first time they met. "What?" He's as articulate as Tommy. 

"Remember the beach?" Tommy asks, still not looking at him.

"The party?"

Tommy nods.

"What about it?"

"You said you loved me."

Everything he feels must be showing on his face because Tommy grabs the back of his neck and says, "Hey... It's okay."

Like hell it is. "I don't want your pity."

"What?"

"Go!" He pulls his knees up, and uses his legs to push Tommy away. He stumbles, tries to take hold of the counter, but only manages to hit his side against it, and then he's falling. Adam hears the crack, sees the elbow that hits the floor. 

Time freezes. 

He jumps down, crouches beside Tommy, checking the elbow before anything else because those hands are fucking precious. Tommy winces, but it's not broken. He can move it - no permanent damage - and Adam hugs him, pulls Tommy between his thighs, and just holds him. "I'm sorry."

"You should be, jackass." There's no venom in those words. 

"Love you."

Tommy puts his hands on top of Adam's. "I know."

"I can't do this anymore." He presses his face against Tommy's hair, inhales. "Can't."

Tommy just sighs. 

"I love you."

Tommy nods. 

"I love you." And now he's crying because fuck it. Fuck everything. 

"I wasn't lying when I said I'd let you use me."

"But would you love me back?" They are both sweaty, and Tommy's hair gets stuck to his wet cheek. He doesn't want to let go. He doesn't want to look at tomorrow and reality and what comes next. It's always bad. 

"Sometimes I think I like suffering. I do it so much it has to be intriguing to me somehow." Tommy pulls his hand close to his mouth, kisses the knuckles. "I don't know how to live without you."

"You've managed." To his surprise he doesn't sound bitter, just tired. 

"Yeah... And whenever I'm anywhere near you everything else pales in comparison. There's nothing in this world that moves me the way you do. Nothing. Everything becomes real: colors, sounds, smells... You make this world meaningful."

"So you love me. I know that." He kisses the side of Tommy's head, his arms and legs still around him, holding him tight. 

"You don't know the half of it. You've ruined me for everyone else."

He wants to laugh because the other option is ugly. He's sad, and sadness makes him nostalgic, and nostalgia is nothing but a painful effort to glorify memories. He wants to go back in time, and warn himself, stop this stupidity before it's too late. It's over three years too late for him now. "So... what's your solution?"

"Be with me anyway." 

Three years of trying to convince himself that it's not real, and here's Tommy telling him it is. "How?"

"I don't know. Any way. Exclusive. Partners in crime. I just want to be close to you. I don't care."

"You're the sweetest person I've ever met, you know that? Such a nasty bastard, yet you're the kindest of us all. I can't even..."

Tommy tilts his head back to look at Adam, and when their eyes meet it's resignation. Tommy leans his head against Adam's shoulder and closes his eyes. "I don't want to do this anymore without you."

"This is completely insane, you know that?"

"Yeah..." Tommy smiles. "But at least we know it."

"We won't be happy."

"I'm so unhappy right now. I can't take it anymore."

What can he say? "Friends, family? They'll think we're crazy."

"I don't give a damn. People have done crazier shit in their lives."

Adam kisses the tip of Tommy's nose, and Tommy frowns but doesn't open his eyes. "Wanna move in with me?"

Tommy grins. "I thought you'd never ask."

"Is that a yes?"

"It's a yes."

"And you expect monogamy?" 

Tommy becomes serious, every part of his body tensing. "Only if you can handle it. But if you can't I don't want to know, ever. And I don't want anyone else to know either."

"Are we best friends?" 

"Beyond that."

He wants to kiss Tommy. He'll be putting himself through hell. "How much of a relationship is it going to be?"

"I don't know." Tommy bites his lip, and Adam touches his mouth with his fingertips. "Desperate times make us do desperate things."

"I don't want you to do anything out of desperation." He's appalled by the idea. 

Tommy opens his eyes, brown mixing with blue when they stare at each other, and there's something solemn about him. "You think I haven't thought this through?"

"I never know with you. You're such a sacrificial lamb." He pulls Tommy's lower lip down with his thumb, then presses it against Tommy's teeth. 

Tommy bites his finger, and it hurts, but his lips curl into a smile. "Fubar," Tommy says with a sweet tone.

It is. It certainly is. But it's his mess, his darkness, his gorgeous fucked up life, and he's going to share it with someone who sees him, and can't live without him. "I love you."

"I told you I'd make you feel."

Adam kisses him, tentative, searching, but instead of a clear response, Tommy just relaxes. And it's more safe than anything, something sweet, something soft, something that will keep him on his toes as long as Tommy will have him.

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> This is by far the weirdest story I've ever written. I don't have any real afterwords. I'm just relieved that it had a hopeful ending. It was so damn heavy when I was writing it. 
> 
> And I want to thank the wonderful aislinn for betaing again. She's so good to me. <3333 
> 
> Oh, and the reason why this story is so dark... I was watching Game of Thrones. One day, I want to be able to write stories like that, too. Not today, not next year, but one day.


End file.
